There was no denying it: holidays really were a good thing.
Under the setting sun, Fu Qian looked around as he walked, and sighed with genuine feeling.
The reason was simple. Though the actual holiday wasn't until tomorrow, the streets were already full of men and women in bizarre costumes.
That made the mask on his face look completely unremarkable.
Just now, he had used a deeper level of consciousness to take over, prompting Frank to naturally choose to make a run for it when faced with a problem. After Frank had taken off his clothes and washed his face, Fu Qian had ended the possession, put on his mask, and left.
Perhaps it would have been safer to maintain the possession a little longer, but there was a big problem: the ability he had gained through Insight was temporary.
And he had a gathering that evening—a gathering he needed to attend as Camus.
Considering that the attendees were probably all acquaintances of Camus, fooling them wouldn't be easy.
So he had to act without delay.
Knock, knock, knock!
As he pondered, Fu Qian raised his hand and knocked on the door in front of him.
That's right. The address in front of him was the one Old Man Camus had given him on his deathbed.
He had come straight here without stopping along the way.
Admittedly, this was risky. He wasn't exactly on good terms with the Native Council.
But as the saying went, high risks brought high rewards. At first glance, these people's actions clearly intersected with his mission, and Fu Qian didn't mind taking advantage of the situation.
"Who are you looking for?"
A few seconds later, a wary voice came from inside.
"Camus Greda."
Fu Qian didn't mind at all. He announced the full